Don't You Cry No More
by GabrieltheTrickster
Summary: Based off an Imagine: "Imagine Sam Dean and Cas Finding Out About Your Self Harm Scars" Rated M for triggering things.


**A/N: My fourth attempt at Reader-insert, written for supernaturalimagine on Tumblr. WARNING: This story talks about self-harm and cutting. DONT READ IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU. I don't want to affect anybody negatively. I hope you enjoy it.**

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You never meant for it to get this bad. It was supposed to be once, maybe twice while you were in high school. When Sam, Dean and Cas had rescued you from that vampire, you thought you could get away. Away from your family and the classmates who bullied you because you weren't the "perfect little prep school girl".

They trained you, taught you everything you now know. And the whole time none of them knew about the light feathery cars that criss-crossed your wrists. How could they? You were always wearing long-sleeved shirts and pants, mostly because you felt more comfortable hunting that way. And you were happy at last, at least you thought you were.

But last night's hunt with Cas hadn't gone as planned. Nothing complicated, there was a werewolf a few towns away that needed to be dealt with, so you and Cas decided to take care of it alone, after convincing Dean that you'd be fine. You stuck to the plan but there was a second werewolf that you didn't know about until it nearly shredded Cas to bits. You ganked the damn thing before it did any damage but you felt awful.

You feel awful and you apologized to Cas about a million times last night and he kept insisting that he was fine. Even Dean told you that you handled the situation well and that he was proud of you. That didn't keep you from a night of staring at the wall of your room in the bunker hating yourself.

Sometime during the night you decided that today was the day. Dean came in shortly after noon saying that they were going out to grab lunch but you insisted that you wanted to stay home and take a long hot bath in private. He nodded and left. Moments later you heard the Impala roar to life and you waited until the sound of her tires on the gravel had stopped. You waited a few more minutes to guarantee that they wouldn't be back before you sat down at your desk to write.

_Dear Guys,_

_If you're reading this, then I must apologize for what's about to come. if you're reading this it means that you just got back from lunch. It also means that I'm in my bathroom. Only I won't respond when you call my name. I won't come out and kiss Dean or hug Sam or Cas. I won't ever do those things again because if you're reading this I'm already dead. This is not your fault, any of you. For the longest time I've struggled with hating myself and with suicidal thoughts. I used to cut all the time in high school because I was bullied for wanting to blast classic rock and shoot guns rather than go to dances and play with makeup. I love all of you, and I never wanted to hurt you. When I came here, I was happy, and I found the courage to stop harming myself because I had actual enemies that I could actually kill and it took the weight off. But after I almost got Cas killed last night, it all came back. I'm a failure as a person, as a friend and especially as a hunter. Dean, I love you more than anything and I want you to keep fighting for me. Go out there and kill some evil sons of bitches and raise a little hell. Sam, I don't want you to think that you dragged me into this life. I always knew I was put here for something bigger than skeet shooting and martial arts. You can't beat yourself up about my death because you aren't at fault for this. I always knew I would die with a knife in my hand. And Cas, my angel, don't try to bring me back. I don't want to come back. Hell, if I become an angel instead of ending up on the Rack, I'll just poof down here and save you the trouble. Please, do not beat yourselves up about my death. Don't try to get me back because so help you if I find out one of you idjits tried to make a deal for me I will personally find a way to come back long enough to kick your asses. I love you, all of you. Be careful and kick some ass, you hear me?_

_~Love (Y/N)_

You fold the letter and seal it with some wax from a candle. You walk into the main room and place the paper on the table. You sigh and walk to your bedroom. You dig through your few articles of clothing and you change into your favorite outfit for hunting. You slip into the black jeans, the long-sleeved muscle shirt and Converse sneakers that had hidden pockets for blades. You also slide on your blood-stained leather jacket. You empty all your hiding places of knives and a few handguns, laying them all on the bed. You also leave your salt, holy water and a lighter on the bed, knowing that the guys will need them for your funeral. You keep one blade, a long silver knife engraved with some Enochian symbols.

You walk into the bathroom and brace yourself against the sink. Your eyes are cold and you know that you're not going to end up in Heaven. You roll the sleeves up, exposing your wrist and the scars. You slowly push the tip of the knife into your arm and you gasp in pain before the adrenaline takes over. You watch your blood drip into the sink as you run the blade across your skin again and again. You hear the Impala returning and you begin to freak out. You're getting very dizzy and the room is spinning a bit. You drive the blade deeper and you hear the door to the bunker open.

You're on your knees now, over the toilet. You want to vomit from the dizzyness and your vision is getting dim. You hear voices calling your name but you don't respond. You drop the blood-soaked blade to the floor and sit, waiting to hear the final words you'll ever hear. You're met with silence. You figure they're reading the letter and you think they might still find you alive but the blood dripping from your arm and the dimming vision remind you otherwise.

You hear it at last, Dean screaming your name as his footsteps come running towards your room, Sam and Cas close behind, judging byt the difference in foot falls. The door to your bathroom comes smashing open and you see Dean, tears streaming down his face, muscles tense as he looks at you and takes in everything around him.

"Dean," you whisper quietly. "I'm so sorry." You hear him screaming something to you and you hear Cas' name before you black out completely from the blood loss.

You open your eyes and you realize it's dark and that you're lying on a bed of sorts. You blink a few times, your hunter instincts kicking in and helping you adjust to the darkness around you. You still don't see anything and that's when you realize you're in an empty room. You stand slowly and shakily, stretching all your muscles. You look down at your arm and see that it's wrapped in a large amount of gauze.

Before you can question it, you hear voices and that's when you notice that there is a small crack of light on the floor. Footsteps approach and you return to the bed. The door opens and your temporarily blinded by the light. You instinctively reach for your gun but find your pockets empty. You blink rapidly, your eyes finding the light to be a much simpler adjustment than the dark.

When you finally adjust you find yourself in Dean's room at the bunker with Dean, Cas and Sam all watching you from just inside the door. You rub at your eyes.

"I'm in Hell, aren't I? You guys are just altering yourselves to look like the guys so i trust you. Not gonna happen you black-eyed skanks." You cross my arms and keep yourself focused on them as Dean takes a step forward.

"You're not dead, (Y/N). We got to you in time and Sam stitched up your arm. If you don't believe us, feel free to test us. Holy water, salt and the demon blade are all on the nightstand."

You eye him carefully and grab the demon blade. You approach Cas and run the tip of the blade through his cheek. When you see he has no reaction, you quickly test Sam and Dean and they pass as well. You sit down on the edge of Dean's bed and bury your face in your hands, sobbing.

Instantly, you're surrounded by arms and comforting words. You look up and see that they three guys have you in a group huddle, keeping you in the middle.

"Why would you harm yourself that way? I know that being a human comes with much pain but is it so bad that you wish to take your life?" Cas hands you a cup of hot tea and you look into his blue eyes.

"Like I said in the letter, I feel guilty. I've never been good at anything until I got here and became a hunter. I would cut myself because I had no other outlet. I loved the adrenaline rush it gave me, watching the blood and feeling the blade. It's not so much that I wanted to die back then, I just wanted to feel in control. But last night..." you trailed off and Sam gave you a confused look.

"(Y/N), you've been unconscious for 3 days. You're lucky that Dean has your blood type because he had to give you 4 pints of blood." you turned to Dean and smiled.

"You didn't have to do that, you know. You didn't have to risk yourself to save me. You should have left me there or you should have let Cas heal me if you wanted to keep me around, not risk yourself for me. None of you should risk yourself for me, I don't deserve it." You were met with three looks that very clearly said "Don't make us smack some sense into you".

"I did what I knew I had to do because I was not losing you. And technically Cas can't heal you without your consent since you're marked. So don't even start with me," Dean's tone was firm but not angry. At least you could stop worrying that he was pissed and wanted to throttle you. You looked at Cas.

"Heal them. Heal them and take away the scars. I don't want them anymore. They remind me of the past and I'm done living that life. I want to break those chains. I want to live. I want to be here, with you three dorks, and I want to hunt. I want to go out there and slaughter these evil bastards and put them all right back to where they belong." You could hear yourself speaking and as the words came out you were convincing yourself that you really and truly wanted this. You wanted to live, to breathe, to hunt monsters.

You held your arm out to Cas and in a flash of light a slight tingling sensation, you were healed. You ran your fingers over your wrist and slightly laughed at how smooth and unscathed it was. You embraced Cas and smiled brightly.

"Y/N, before we let you back out into the world, you need to swear that you'll never harm yourself again. Not just for me, but for Sam and Cas as well. Promise us that if you ever feel like you want to hurt yourself again that you'll come talk to us about it. Hell, I'll even let you use me as a personal punching bag if you want to let off some steam. Just...don't ever leave or try to leave again," Dean was holding back tears in his emerald eyes and you walked over to him and pressed your lips to his before wiping the tears that had started to fall from his freckled cheekbones.

"I solemnly swear that from this point on, the only marks I make on my body will be those of the tattooed variety. I swear to never ever try to kill myself and I promise that if I ever get myself into a hole like that again I will come talk to you guys or I will go to Dean and get a few good punches in. I love you guys and I'd much rather be shooting guns down here than frolicking with angels up there. No offense, Cas." You wrapped my arm around Dean's waist and smiled at Sam and Cas, who were both smiling back.

"I take no offense to your comment. Although most angels do not frolic. We are servants of the Lord and..." Castiel was cut off by Sam's hand abruptly covering his mouth.

"Alright, now that we've resolved this issue, let's get pie!" You all laugh at Dean's seemingly endless stomach for sugar and move towards the kitchen. You fall back and grab your handgun, slipping into your jacket. You smile at the familiar weight and walk into the kitchen with enough time to get hit in the face with a handful of whipped cream. You wipe the foam from your eyes in time to see the three guys laughing manically.

"Oh it's on," you say, grabbing a bottle of ketchup and chasing after them. As you run, you begin to think that maybe living here in this family is a hell of a lot better than dying.


End file.
